The Covent Garden Ghost
by nerdyperformer
Summary: Cara Donnelly wakes one morning to find her father dead, just after being accepted into London's Royal Ballet. Leaving her cosy Essex cottage and entering the Royal Opera House, she feels more than out of place with her cousin Millie and her ballet mistress aunt.. until she hears a voice through her walls. (modern day Phantom, E/C to follow soon.)
1. Chapter 1

**there's this website that encourages to write 750 words every day, and this is what i wrote. it subconsciously became a modern, one-shot of Christine (Cara) finding her father dead, after being accepted into the Royal Ballet, situated in the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. if you like it, i may carry it on, as a modern day, maybe E/C fic, so read it and let me know whether you like the idea or whether i should leave it. thanks.**

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It was quiet when she woke, that cold, December morning.

Cara was used to being woken up by her father at 5:30am every morning, but today was different. Cara had woken up at 7:42am, sharp, to a quiet house. That wasn't right. That wasn't normal.

Cara Donnelly was a ballet dancer. She took after her father with her passion for the arts; she had grown up with regular trips to London's West End and the various ballets and operas that were being performed in the big venues. That was were her love started.

"Papa," a five-year-old Cara had told her father one night, "I want to dance!"

Chuckling, her father replied, "Come on, then, stand up, get out of bed. Let's have a quick dance before bedtime." Cara's father was a good, kind, yet lonely man, with a passion for music. His wife, a great singer, had committed suicide after the death of her close and beloved brother; she had been driven to madness, and found a new relief in death, not song. As much as her departure hurt her husband, Gareth Donnelly pulled through, raising their daughter with all the love and care he could. Despite the constant trips into London, he kept her in a small farm hamlet in Essex. He wanted to keep her safe, and away from anything that might lead her to the same place as her mother. He felt that he needed no other company, other than a young heir named Ryan, who lived over the hill from them, in a large country house.

"No Papa! I mean ballet! Like the pretty ballerinas we saw tonight!" Little Cara proceeded to dance all around her quaint bedroom on her tip-toes, before being swooped up into a lift and on to her bed.

"It's very hard work, you know, Cara. It hurts your toes, it's very demanding, you retire very early." Gareth saw hurt flash through his child's eyes. "I'm just warning you, okay? It's very hard, perusing a life in the arts. Myself and your mother know that."

"Is that why Mamma hung herself?" Cara's innocent question made Gareth want to cry.

"No, darling... Do you really want to be a dancer?" Cara nodded enthusiastically. "Well then, you go and ask the Angel of Music for it then." The five-year-old looked up at the Evening Star, the star which Gareth had taught her was where Heaven was, and prayed to him. "Now to God." Again, Cara obeyed and prayed. It was important that she was religious, for it gave them something to hope on.

The next morning, little Cara had gotten her wish. The Angel of Music had given her lessons with her mother's sister and dancer. Cara learnt quickly and her life seemed to revolve around dancing. Her cousin, Millie, was also learning, and the two of them became great friends, playing with Ryan in his manor house, when the lessons took place at the cottage. With the odd singing lesson from her father, many could see that Cara had great potential to be a dancer or a singer. She was truly talented.

The seventeen-year-old began to panic; her father always woke her at 5:30am, she went through her stretches, did a quick vocal warm-up, ate, then left for her dance school at 7:30am, dressed, showered and ready. This was the order even on weekends, like that day.

Jumping out of her bed, Cara pulled on a dressing gown and ran down stairs. Although she couldn't hear her father's violin, she hoped he'd be reading or silently composing.

"Papa!" She cried. No reply.

Running outside, she screamed his name, hoping he'd be taking a morning walk, but she had reached the hill she used to climb to get to her old friend Ryan, with no luck. Her father hadn't been himself since he was diagnosed with cancer. He had been quiet, less up for a laugh, not playing or singing as much. In the past year, the house had become cold and quiet. But not as quiet as that morning.

It didn't help how Gareth had ignore any form of treatment from the doctors, only taking his painkillers to numb his slow death. It had always felt like he was abandoning her; the last person she ever had was dying in front of her every morning.

She ran back to the house, fearing the worst.

Her father lay in his bed, lifeless, empty bottles of painkillers lying around. He promised her that he had been taking them. He lied. A letter was left though;

_"Little Cara, I beg you, forgive your father. This will be horrible for you, but it's time my dear. A letter from the Royal Ballet came yesterday, whilst you were at school. Good news, my child, a scholarship; lodgings and care for nothing. You won't lose the house or my money, though. I sorted out a will when I was first diagnosed, waiting for the day when you could audition and succeed. I always knew you could do it, Little Cara. I just couldn't deal with the treatment or the chemo. That's why I rejected it. I knew my time would come when you were happy and successful, so I kept some pills aside for that. I beg for your forgiveness again, my love. Auntie Anna and cousin Millie will be with you, though, at the opera house. Do you remember visiting it? The ballets and the operas? Live your dream, child. It was all I ever wanted. I'll say hello to your mother for you. I've missed her so much."_

His letter was flooded with the tears of a broken child. Her mother and her father had both left her, both through the sin of suicide. What were people going to say, or think?

Cara Donnelly treated herself to a full bottle of wine that morning; broken, hollow and alone. She danced, she sang, she tried to forget that her father was upstairs dead. It didn't work. Nothing could fill the hole.

Giving up, Cara called an ambulance to take her father away, as she re-read both her father's letter and the acceptance letter she found in his drawer. A second call was made to Auntie Anna Giry. She was going to London.

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**very bad, isn't it? ahh well, did you like it? would you like more? Cara's a more feisty, modern day version of Christine, so the character's will be different. i've always wanted to write a Christine with attitude or a really strength to her, so what better than in a modern fic. **

**r&r and let me know what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

I've been to London several times before; to visit the ballet, the opera, Theatreland. London was like my home from home, alive with fun and excitement. I have always dreamed of being a headline act on one of London's many stages, and now, I've got my chance. But I'm not happy, like I should be. How can I when he's not here?

London always fascinated me. Every time Papa and I would visit, my mouth would be open with London's wonderful clash of modern buildings and old architecture, lit up with history and wonder. No matter how many times we'd visit, we'd never miss the chance to be tourists, visiting museums and monuments, enjoying a picnic in Hyde Park, just because we could. I was happy, back then, when the sun would shine as we enter the city, almost welcoming us back to visit town. Now, as I looked outside, I wasn't sure whether London looked blurry due to the rain or my tears. Every carving in the old buildings reminded me of the days we spent together, when I had at least one parent to love and care for me. But I have none, now. I'm on my own. Where's the vodka shots when I need them?

When Auntie Anna found me, not four hours ago, I had drank most of the hurt away. It wasn't healthy, but it helped. I never drink; Papa used to let me have a glass of wine or champagne of special occasions, which I never finished before. But when Auntie Anna had made her way to the cottage, with Millie in toe, I was lying on the living room coach, silently crying, hugging Papa's bottle of Ouzo. It was the only bottle of alcohol left in the house; we weren't massive drinkers, as one could guess. The bottle of Ouzo, the vodka and a few friendly bottles of wine were all we had, and within two hours had a drunk every last drop of it. I hadn't thrown up, though, that's a plus. The medical crew had come and taken my father away from me, and left me to wallow in my papa's death, after I bit their heads off about disturbing me. Auntie Anna was mad when we saw me, ordering Millie to get me into the shower and seriously sober up. Squeaky clean, headache free and packed to go, I headed down stairs, two hours later, and sat on the couch for about half an hour whilst Auntie Anna screamed at me. She ranted on and on about what a shame I was to my father; drinking and crying, not taking care of myself, all I did was cry at the truth. I didn't apologise, though. I was not sorry for the wallowing in grief. I was an orphan now, with only five months to my eighteenth birthday. I want no one. I need no one. Only, I wanted someone. I need someone. Papa...

I forgot how much of a nightmare parking was in London. It had been a while.

"Okay, Cara," Millie was holding my hand in the backseat, "we're nearing the Opera House now, our future home!" God bless Millie; all blonde curly hair and bright blue eyes, she's the perfect ballerina. As much as I've wanted to be a ballerina, I know that my true and natural talent lies in singing. I had to be trained to dance, but I had the natural strength for my voice. Thank you, Papa, for giving me what I've got. "Right, this contract we have means that we're, like, boarders, sort of like the foreign girls. Mum also has her own room with us boarders, and we've got a room down the hall from hers. The dorms are in a different building, joining onto the opera house, so we can go straight to the stage, via the dorm building." Noticing my blank, dead look, she squeezed my hand a little tighter. "It will be fine. Mum and I are your family now. Just you wait, we'll be great ballerinas in a couple of years!" She squeaked.

"Yeah," I replied, still hard as stone, "great. You and me, great ballerinas. Yay." I was too cold and sad to be happy or excited about the future, as my present felt like it was falling down around me. Millie understood this, and kept to holding my hand.

"Cara, you must be optimistic." Auntie Anna's stern voice hit me in the face. She kept her eyes on the road, driving through Piccadilly Circus. "This is a great opportunity for you. Yes, it came at a terrible time, but that is why you should take advantage of it. I worked long and hard to try and get you and Millie these scholarships, so you can stay in the dorms." She looked directly at me, her cold grey eyes boring into my stormy blue ones. "Don't throw this away on your new foul attitude."

She pulled up down a side road, a short walk away from Covent Garden and the opera house. Auntie Anna pulled me into a hug, when we both got out of the car. She pulled out, lifting me chin and stroking my hair.

"I loved your mother very much. She was my darling little sister, and I forget just how alike you two are; fragile, but strong as well." Makes no sense, but okay then. "Just... don't throw this away." She opened up the boot of the car, and let myself and Millie take the two small boxes I brought of things for our room, whilst she picked up all of our handbags, from inside the car.

"Now," she announced, as we strolled into the glamorous shopping square of Covent Garden, heading towards the entrance of the opera house, "the two mangers want to meet you. It's nothing major, they just want to see you dance, and greet you to the company. They've meet Millie and I, so they want to meet my wonderful niece." She pushed open the doors to the foyer. "But they don't know about you father, dear, so try not to be rude or spiteful." I grunted in response. Fabulous. A meeting with the managers.

~oOo~

We left the boxes outside of the office, and Auntie Anna handed us our bags.

"Cara, call her Mistress Giry." Millie whispered to me. "It's just formal and proper. Even I have to, and I'm her bloody daughter!" Knocking on the managers' door, we heard a sharp 'Come in!' and entered the lion's den.

Behind two desks sat two very different men. The first was a squat man, with a funny mustache and a balding head. I came to the conclusion that he was pompous, I didn't need to hear him speak. The second was a man who looked like more a man I could talk to; he was a few inches taller than the other, with greying hair and no stupid mustache. You, I like you. I walked in front of them, and took a small bow, taking after my classic novels, when they first met new people. The second manager looked up and greet me with an 'Ahhh!'

"You must be Miss Donnelly, I presume!" He stood up, whilst I nodded. "Well, it's lovely to meet you. I am Mr Andrews, and over there is Mr Fredricks." He took my hand and bowed. Yes, I do like you. "Apparently we never got a letter back from you. We sent it out a few days ago."

I spoke. "Well, yeah, there were complications. I received it only this morning." I had to stop myself from crying, remembering my father's body lying in his bed. "I called Aunt- Mistress Giry, and told her the news. She picked me up, and got me packed this noon."

"Thank you for coming, anyway." Mr Andrews turned to his partner. "Fredricks, come and meet the new member of the ballet." Fredricks looked at me for the first time since I came in, and grunted. I don't want to be here either, mate.

He stood up, and walked over roughly shaking my hand. "Hello, Miss..." So, you're not even going to take the time to know my name? What is happening today?!

"Miss Cara Donnelly, sir." I nodded to him. Addressing both managers, I said, "Mistress Giry told me that you wanted to see me dance."

"Well, if you like to." Andrews said, honestly concerned about me. Did he know? "It's been a long trip, I know. Are sure you don't want to-"

"Shut up, Andrews." Fredrick moaned. "If she wants to dance, let her!" All eyes in the room were focused on me, and what'll say next. Auntie was right; I had to be optimistic and strong. I couldn't throw my only home away. I stood a little straighter, got a glint in my eye and smiled. I felt so confident.

"Just show me to the stage, and give me ten minutes to warm up."

~oOo~

I finished my routine in a simple second position, holding my arms above my head, a since forgotten smile on my face. It felt good to be dancing again, so soon after Papa's death. Dancing was always some sort of relief for me; ever since I since my GCSE exams started, they've helped me cope with stress and feeling down. Maybe I should have started reaching for the shoes, instead of reaching for the bottle.

Both managers stood up and applauded, Andrews far more enthusiastic than Fredricks. One day, I will hit that man. Had the alcohol-fueled mourning gone to my brain and made me snappy? I would never think I this before Papa's death, this morning. Well, I guess death changes people.

"Brava, brava, Miss Donnelly!" cheered Mr Andrews, walking forward and bowing his head. "A true new talent to the company. We've got quite an amazing crop of new talent coming in this year." He referred to both Millie and I, bowing to the two of us.

"Mistress Giry will show you to your new dorms rooms." Fredrick grunted to us, sounding more polite than he had when he first addressed us, believe it or not. "If you don't mind, we have to get back to our work, now, and the opera will be starting soon." He showed his expensive looking Rolex to us, the time showing half past six.

"I heard the season was ending soon." I murmured. All eyes were upon me again. I fucking hated that. "I remember when I last saw the opera. It was The Magic Flute." This felt awkward, and I went and made it worse by nodding... really slowly. Smooth, Cara, really smooth.

"Well," Andrews spoke up, "we are coming to the end of The Minotaur. We are starting up Swan Lake soon, and after that, we are thinking of going classic and choosing Fraust." The information didn't make the awkwardness fade. Thank God for my Auntie Anna.

"Gentlemen, I'm sure that you have your work to attend to. If you don't mind, Cara had been through a trying day, and she needs her rest. I will be at the dinner tonight. I will see you then." Auntie Anna must be one hell of a great ballet mistress. She spoke with such authority and command in her voice, that you can't help but notice and/or obey her.

"Yes, yes, of course. Goodnight girls." Andrews and Fredricks bowed to all of us, and we responded with mini curtseys, just as us dancers should. We watch them leave, and when we knew that we were alone, I let my barriers down and started to weep. Millie pulled me into a hug almost straight away, and Auntie Anna stroked my back. After all of the embarrassment and trouble I've put her through today, she's still by my side. She's still my aunt. It's a comforting thought for an only-child orphan.

"Millie, let's take her back upstairs, shall we?" In response, Millie nodded and dried my eyes for me, as I fought back the fresh tears that threatened to spill. Had it really only been a day since Papa died? Holy crap. So much has happened since then.

~oOo~

Climbing the stairs back to the managers' office, we picked up the boxes we had left there, and we wandered through the winding paths of the maze that was backstage. That is something I love about backstages, especially in small theatres, it was always a crazy maze to get lost in. No matter we're you ended up, it would be cool or interesting or exciting or a mix of all three.

We came to a double door, labelled 'The Dorms' with a gold plaque. Pushing through it, I saw no difference; we were going through a long corridor, with plain white walls and basic lighting. Despite from the cool touch on the walls, I felt like I was walking down the Green Mile. The lino floor was a dark shade of blue, but that was besides the point. On the walls, starting at the theatre door, names of past ballerinas, with dates written next to them plagued the wall, in an almost memory of them. Auntie Anna said that the dorms we're fairly new, and that they had only been around for about 20 or so years. I loved the wall, as it reminded me of the Nederlander Theater in New York, with past cast members writing on one of the outside walls. Little touches and quirks to even the most classic of theatres make me smile.

However, when we had reached the other double doors at the end of the Green Mile, all I could see was pure awesomeness. Well, to me, it was great. We opened on a large room, with cut of posters and drawn-on pictures of ballerinas on the walls. There was a large chandeliers from IKEA hanging down. Benches and warm-up bars went around the room, stopping when there we're doors. It was obvious that this was the before-curtain room, where you can quickly stretch again, or retie your shoes. The doors we're labeled, too; one door had 'Kitchen' written on it, another with 'Leisure Room', and the last one had 'Stairs To Rooms'. All had the same gold plaques on them. I could live here... I think. What about Papa? He would have loved to see this! His little Cara, all grown up, a border in the Royal Opera House.

"Millie, you can show Cara around tomorrow. Tonight, she must rest." Millie nodded with a 'Yes, Mum', rolling her eyes. We pushed through the third door, and was faced with a few flights of stairs. Oh, great. "You girls are on the top floor, with me. You two are in Room 13, down the hall from my room. It's clearly labeled, Cara dear, you can't miss it." Knowing me, I probably will.

Three flights of stairs later, we reached an empty doorway, and another corridor. This time, it seemed that past ballerinas had tried to liven it up, or simply accessorize their doors. Writing and, on one door, fairy lights lined the doors. Almost immediately, we reached Room 13, labeled with yet another gold plaque. They were fans of gold, here.

Millie excitedly opened the door, and a basic room of two beds, a wardrobe, a warm-up bar and a door leading to an en suite faced me. Evidence of Millie already filled the room; her side of the room had pink bedding, and her own personal trinkets on the bedside table. She had also added a bookshelf, leaving a whole two shelves for me. She must have known I was coming.

"Isn't it wonderful? It's rather plain, but you can do a lot with it." Why was my cousin, a few months my senior, was acting like a five-year-old? She was spinning around the room, excited about the prospect of living together, in the Royal Opera House ballet dorms. I would be, too, if my father hadn't died this morning.

"Millie, help Cara unpack." Auntie Anna commanded. "Get her washed up and ready for dinner." She turned to me, placing one box on my plain bed. "Most of the new students will be coming in today. This top floor has three double rooms, mostly for foreign students coming in pairs, but I insisted of having Millie and you on this floor. I thought it would make you feel better to be with family, whether or not your father lives." Tears filled my eyes again. "Don't cry. I'll see you both later tonight." With that, she strode out of the room, closing our door behind her.

Millie crept up behind me, surprising me with a hug. "It'll be alright, cousin. We'll look after you." She turned me around, our matching eyes staring into each other. "Go and have a shower, but be out in ten minutes. Feel free to use my things. I'm going to fix you up, calm yourself and your mind." I complied, washing away a whole morning of grief, alcohol and change. Millie came in a few minutes later, leaving an outfit on the toilet. I later saw that it was her adorable blue dress that I have admired for years. She knows I love this dress. God bless her.

Dripping wet and changed, I walked out if the bathroom, to her smiling face. She had started to put my books away, categorizing and ordering them. She walked over to me again, hugging me tightly once again, ignoring me soaking wet hair. I felt better. A new start, a clean body, an empty mind... for now. Soon the ghosts will come back to haunt me. I spent half an hour in bliss, having Millie play around with my hair, drying it and styling it in a simple low ponytail, with something fancy done to it.

"There you are!" Millie exclaimed, spinning me in front of the on-wall mirror. "You look stunning! You'll make a really good impression with the girls." She walked in front of me, looking into my eyes again. "How do you feel?"

"A bit better." I responded, walking over to my bed and sitting down. "I still feel... empty, though."

"Understandable. Today's been rough." Millie sat beside me, hugging me with one arm, trying to comfort me, but failing. I don't see how I could ever feel better, not now. "It's going to be great living with you. Mum has only just moved in, herself; she lived in the flat with me, coming in every day." She paused to look at me. "Are you coming down?" I shook my head, not wanting to speak unless I started crying. "You should. You'll feel better if you eat, get to know people. It will take your mind of what happened this morning." I grunted. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

Now that was a tricky question; when was the last time I ate? I remember not being hungry yesterday evening, after a large lunch with my mates at dance school, so it must have been lunchtime yesterday. My friends. I forgot about them. Those three crazy people who were some of the most talented people I know. I didn't say goodbye. How will they know where I am?

Not wanting to speak, I shrugged to Millie's defeated sigh. "That's not healthy. You need to eat something." I shook my head, starting to cry again. Can't go downstairs. Please, Millie, don't make me. "At least come and meet the girls!" She saw the tears building in my eyes, and I saw her shoulders drop. "Fine, okay, stay up here. Maybe you need some you time. I need to go down, with Mother, so I can't stay." She kissed me on the head, and stroked me cheek. "Go to bed if you need to. Just don't do anything stupid." She got up and left, closing the door lightly behind her.

I was free to let my tears fall.

Unzipping the dress, I placed it on Millie's bed, and I ripped out the hairbands ruining my cousin's hard work. Thank God I had no makeup, for I don't think that I would have the energy. Instead I pulled on my discarded shirt and climbed into bed, bra still on.

My tears were my only company that night... and a presence. Just a presence. As a sobbed like the baby I am in bed, I couldn't help but feel like someone was either with me or watching me. However, I convinced myself every single time I thought someone was there, my eyes proved me wrong. No one else was is the room. Maybe it was just the ghost of my father staying here with me. Is that all I have of him now? Happy memories and a ghost? Well, at least he's still here, right?


	3. Chapter 3

**hello there! if you're coming from reading Streets Full Of Strangers, then hi again! if you're not and just reading this, then why not give it a go? it's a Enjolras/Eponine fic on my profile, and i officially finished it today! anyway, this has been my favourite chapter, so far, to write, so i hope you like it.**

**i own nothing. enjoy x **

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I don't often cry myself to sleep, for the reason of the splitting headache you get when you wake up. It's an easy way to fall asleep, but it makes it hard to get up in the morning. Squinting my eyes at the garish sunlight coming through the small window, all I wanted to do was curl up in bed, cry and sleep. I didn't want to eat or do anything. Just cry. Fuck rehearsals and meeting the cast today. My dad died yesterday. I think I deserve a while to be depressed and cry my eyes out. No one understands what this feels like. No one had a dad like mine, and no one found him dead after a on-purpose drug overdose. He claimed that it was time to go, except it wasn't. I still need him. I'm only seventeen. Reaching to my right, I felt for his final letter to me on the bedside table, the thing that helped me fall asleep last night. Or cry myself to sleep. I couldn't help but re-read it again, resulting in another wave of tears falling from my eyes. I sounded like a dying whale, but I didn't care. My dad was dead. Everyone else can fuck off and leave me alone.

I must have been loud in my ugly sobbing, because I heard Millie move in her bed, and groan in what was either fatigue or annoyance. She's been helping me to recover. It is better for me to get out of bed and do something to distract me, but I can't. I need to lie here for at least a few days and just cry, get it out of my system. She sort of understands; Uncle Julian died in a car crash when Millie was just four years old, a year or so before Dad sent me to Auntie Anna for lessons. But she was little and can barely remember him. I can remember my father clearly. I understand that it was still hard on her, but if anything, I need to talk to Auntie Anna, she'd understand better.

"Cara?" Millie murmured, her voice thick with sleep, as I whimpered in response. "We need to get up, it's 6am. You didn't meet any of the girls last night, so you should this morning. Plus, you haven't eaten yet, have you?" I didn't respond. I heard her huff and climb out of bed, she shoved me hard so I turned to face her, arm ready to break her nose. Fuck off! "You've got to get up, I'm not kidding. Uncle Gareth didn't leave you here to act pathetic!" I've never heard Millie raise her voice before, so she had my attention. Tears filled her eyes. "I miss him too. He was my uncle, just as Dad was your's. He treated me like his own, he was like my dad too! Please, just get up, and eat something. I need you here, and so do you. This isn't healthy." Ouch, that sort of hurt. I never thought she liked Papa. In guilt, I sat up, keeping her gaze, my stormy, mournful eyes matching her watery bright ones.

I stared at her a little while longer, before stroking her face. "Who's getting in the shower first?" She giggled, and offered me to go first. No being depressed today, then. It's just going to have to wait for another day. After getting out, Millie pounced on me again, offering me an outfit she laid out on my neatly fixed bed. That girl can do a lot in ten minutes! She hopped off into the shower, before telling me to dry my hair and get dressed, for we were learning the first routine. They could start now that I was here. I was holding them up. And Millie had chosen the perfect outfit for today. On the bed lay black leggings, with the little ankle hole, a simple strappy black cotton top and my beloved oversized Little Cosette t-shirt. Beside them lay the embarrassing Granny sock tights and a few hairbands to do my hair. Almost everything, excluding the grey Cosette top, was black showing that I was in mourning, yet the t-shirt showed my allegiance to all things showbiz-y. Millie knew me well.

~oOo~

We walked slowly downstairs, taking our time on each step. I wasn't in a rush for food, despite the fact that I haven't eaten for over 24 hours. Not even the beautiful, God-given smell of fried bacon could make my mouth water. The bacon must have been a treat for the first day of rehearsals for the new ballerinas. That wasn't right. I love eating. I had to give myself some credit, though, I never thought I'd sit up in bed this morning, let alone have a shower, get dressed and walk downstairs. With Millie with me, I felt good, confident... sort of. But I'm okay, or will be, once I start dancing and learning the routine, everything will go out of my mind and I'll feel better, just like yesterday with the managers.

We crept down the familiar stairwell, and stopped outside the door labeled 'Kitchen'. Panic and fear sudden came upon me. No. This wasn't going to happen. I couldn't!

"Millie, I can't do this." I started backwards. "Can I go back?"

"Cara, you have to pull yourself together." She turned me around, grabbing my shoulders. "You need to get out and distract yourself. Don't hide from the world because of what happened." I nodded slowly. She was right. I've gotten this far, I can't turn back now. Millie nodded with me, "Don't worry, they're all nice. A little gossipy sometimes, but darlings." She turned her back on me and pushed open the door.

The kitchen looked awesome. There was a little section for the actual cooking part and two, long tables with benches for seats for the fourteen of us. Again, everything was plain white, with pictures and doodles added on by past and current members of the ballet. There was a breakfast bar area, with no seating, to serve some of the food on it. It looked good, really fancy and like a normal dorm kitchen, except it was awesome. The same small windows were dotted around the room, like in our rooms, and it was mostly lit by the bright energy saving bulbs. The smell of the different food the girls were making smelt fabulous... But again, my mourning state told me that I wasn't hungry. Well tough, depression, I am eating. It's not healthy for a dancer to not eat before spending the whole day dancing. Wondering over to the bread tin with Millie, we sorted ourselves some toast, and headed over to three other girls at one end of a table. Whilst Millie smiled and waved at them, I kept a solemn face, so they noticed to leave me alone today. I gripped my cousin's arm in almost fear. I didn't want to do this. No. No.

At the table sat three foreign looking girls; the kindest looking one had long blonde-brown hair with dark brown eyes. Next to her sat a girl with her bushy auburn hair tied back tight in a pony tail, the end going crazy, and had beautiful sea green eyes. But there was one who just looked like a snob. This one had pitch black hair with the palest blue eyes I have ever seen. It didn't seem to work. The look on her face seemed to scream, "Touch me and you're dead." I didn't think I'd like her.

"Girls," Millie addressed them when we sat down, "this is my cousin, Cara, the one I told you about last night." They nodded in understanding, and my eyes widened. What the hell did Millie say last night? I didn't want to punch her, but I might have to. "Cara, this is Daniela," she pointed to the blonde who gave me a wave, "Sorcha," the auburn one nodded, "and Antonina." The black haired one smiled at me, and kept it. Maybe she was alright. "Just so you know, Daniela joined from Poland a year ago, Antonina is from Russia and this is her last year of her scholarship, and Sorcha, would you believe it, is from Waterford, like Granny Mae!" Granny Mae was Mum and Auntie Anna's mother, still living on the edges of Waterford City in Ireland. I haven't seen her for years.

All the girls nodded, and Antonina was the first to address me in her thick Russian accent, "So you came along yesterday, yes?" I nodded. "Don't worry, it's not as scary as it seems. Hard, but nice." She didn't sound proud or stuck up. If anything, she sounded unsure of herself. First impressions really can be wrong.

Sorcha spoke up in her familiar accent, "I've never met anyone in this crazy city who comes from Waterford! No one seems to come from there!"

Here I go; "Well, we have relatives from there..."

"Close enough! We're going to get along great, just like Millie said."

It was clear that Sorcha was the more confident than the others, because Daniela spoke like a mouse in her sweet Polish accent, I wanted to hug her, "Millie said you weren't feeling well, last night? Are you okay?"

"Still rough, but Millie wouldn't let me miss the first day."

"And can I ask, is that Cosette on your shirt?" So the rest of breakfast was spent talking about Les Mis with Daniela, with Millie, Sorcha and Antonina adding in comments here and there. Not a bad breakfast.

With the food devoured and the plates back into the dishwasher, we all headed to the large entry room, to put on and lace up our en pointe shoes. After warming up slightly, Millie linked arms with me, and almost dragged me down the hallway, as if she didn't trust me to go through with it, not to run back upstairs and cry under my covers. Believe me, I wanted to, but I had to get out there and dance. Millie was right. Papa would have wanted me to enjoy my first day here, and dancing will make me feel ten times better. This is what he would have wanted. All the same, I felt like shit. No. I won't hide. I won't let myself.

Before we had even reached the stage, I heard the screeching voice of a middle-age woman;

"What do you a-mean I can't-a sing in this production?!" What on earth was the accent? Italian? Probably. And what did she mean that she couldn't sing in the production? We are doing a ballet, are we not? Of course she can't sing!

"Signora Cassandra, it-it-it is a ballet!" I heard Andrews stammer. "You cannot sing. There is no singing, only dancing." My point was made. Did this woman really need it spelt out to her?

"Consider it as a vocal break." Fredricks said, sounding as bored as ever. "Really, Signora Cassandra, we have this argument every few months when we put on a ballet!" What?! Every few months?!

"Is this a oprrrrea house, or a... _ballet_... hall?" I wasn't going to like this Signora person. First, she rolled out her 'r' in a really irritating way. Second, she had the nerve to make the word 'ballet' sound disgusting, as if the whole concept of the ballet was a squashed bug that she deliberately stepped on. Did she not know that the ballet was the very essence of any of her precious operas?! "You are replacing the operas!"

Mr Andrews sighed. "Signora Cassandra, to continue our partnership with the Royal Ballet and to share their funds, we have to put on at least two ballets each year! Please you must understand."

We were now in front of the beautiful opera house stage, having to witness an ugly fight between the two mangers and this crazed and even uglier woman. I have never seen anyone more horrific in my life; this woman had firey red hair, which clashed with her gaudy pink coat and her platformed, pink, stripper heels. Her face was so unheavenly made up, a mess of spider-lashes and full red lips. She was getting on a bit, a few crow's feet showing in the corners of her eyes and a couple of make-up caused wrinkles on her cheeks and her brow. Oh wow.

"NO!" She screamed. "Not until you put on a new opera and star me in it, I will not be back!" Good. "No, no, you can't a-change ma mind. Get my doggy! Bye-bye! I am a-going now!" The woman started storming off the stage, to a group of terrified looking helpers, their arms laden with bags of her things. One held a little chihuahua in her hands, which the horrifying woman strutted over to, and started to stroke it. Poor dog. One of the people in the group simply stroked her arm; a fatter man, dressed in a smart day suit and a face which gave the impression that this was not the first time she pulled this on her mangers. He looked likable, with her simply combed black hair and slight stubble. The glittering gold rings on both of their left hands indicated that this poor man was married to such a beast. How did he handle her? The more I looked at them, however, the more familiar they appeared to me.

With a defeated sigh, the mangers ran over to her, begging random things at her. "Signora, please, don't leave us! Your public needs you to stay! We need you to grace our presence with your wonderful aura!" After all of these statements, the woman kept making a high pitched "Si!", as if she was agreeing with what they were feeding her. "You our are star! Our diva! Our triumph!"

"You don't-a deserve her!" The man spoke up, sounding defensive. Oh, please tell me that he wasn't like his wife! I couldn't take much more of this. It was stressing me out, making me want to cry. I sank down into a chair and buried my face in one hand, trying my hardest not to sob. Millie joined me, stroking my free hand.

"It's okay." She whispered. "Calm down. Ignore them." So I did. I still don't know the conclusion they came to with the woman, but when I looked up, she seemed very smug and happy with herself. Jesus, what a bitch. She walked away proud, announcing to the world that she was going home for vocal rest. Yeah, a three month long vocal rest. Maybe I'll be able to handle her when she comes back, when I'm not still mourning the death of my father.

"Girls!" The mangers addressed us. "We are so sorry for that. Just a problem with our leading lady. Welcome to the Royal Opera House, newcomers. We hope you feel welcome and happy here. Mistress Giry will be teaching the choreography to you, of this season's production of Swan Lake. She will hold auditions to the move experienced dancers for the leads soon, so today will be a warm up and introduction to the show. Enjoy ladies!" They stumbled off stage, as Auntie Anna order us to join her onstage.

"Right girls, welcome to the Royal Opera House. I have been the Ballet Mistress here for four years now, so I aspect respect and cooperation from all of you. Understood?" We nodded. She can be terrifying when she wants to be. "Okay then, girls, the ballet bars are lined up upstage. Let's start warming up."

~oOo~

I sent Millie into the bathroom first, seeing as I have been getting in first for a short while. Besides, I wanted to talk to Auntie Anna. I knew nothing about what has been happening here, so how was I supposed to know how to react to anything or fit in? We just needed to talk. She had an idea of what I'm going through, so chatting to her would help.

Unwashed and aching, I strolled down the hall to a door labelled 'Ballet Mistress' and gave three soft knocks. Her voice came through the door, ordering me to 'enter'. Slowly opening the door, my mouth dropped a mile; the ballet mistress' room was massive, twice as big as mine and Millie's room. Auntie Anna had made her room really classic and ornate, just like the older mistress' rooms in past theaters. The room was covered in gold and browns, with a few vases of flowers and comfy pillows around the place. It was classic, just like her. She had placed a fancy bed, a large wardrobe, a bookcase and a freaking writing desk in her room. Oh, the room, the amount of room she has in here! There's even a settee in her! Again, it was really fancy and ornate. I loved this room. Can I moved in here? Please?

"Cara, my dear." my auntie's voice called to me, whilst she sat down at her desk, writing something, I don't know what. "Can I help you? You haven't changed your clothes, or had a shower."

I stood there awkwardly, muttering, "I just want to talk." She smiled warmly, standing up and opening her arms to me. I all but ran into them, the tears returning to my eyes. I've never been so soft or fragile before. Then again, I've never been without Papa before. Auntie Anna hushed me, guiding me over to the settee and sitting me down. "I'm sorry," I blubbered through my tears, "This is stupid. I was alright. I hadn't been crying all day."

She nodded. "The dancing has been distracting you. Doing what you love does." She sat back, melting into the pillows. "I remembered when my Julian died, how much dancing I did. Anything I wanted to express was done through dance." I've never heard Auntie Anna talk about Uncle Julian before. "I loved him dearly, and it killed me when he was in the accident. My true love." She sighed. "Unfortunately, all of that dancing meant that I almost lost Millie. I spent more time alone with my music than with her. The poor thing, she was only four at the time. I was selfish, and almost ruined everything because of my grief. It was the same with your mother's death, all I wanted to do was dance and vent it all out."

"Why didn't you dance for Uncle Michael?" Mother was devastated about her brother's death to the point of suicide, but I remember Auntie Anna being quite calm about it.

"Myself and Michael never saw eye to eye." Just talking about him made her tense up. "He was very... head-strong about business, seeing the arts as pointless. How we ever shared the same DNA, I will never know. The only reason I ever kept in contact with him was because your mother begged me too. As you know, your mother loved him dearly. Then again, she seemed to be the only person he cared about. He preferred her, simply because he believed that she could be used in his business plans to start a recording studio, and that she would be his songbird. She was the only one who treated him as human, in her attempts to keep our family together. That didn't last long." Wow, I never knew that Uncle Michael was such an arse. Papa never talked of him, and I had never asked Auntie Anna about him before. I only knew that he was my mother's brother, that he died of cancer when she was only a year old and that he caused my mother's death. "Anyway, enough about me. How are you feeling?"

"A bit better. Today really helped to relax me, but I still feel lost without him." Tears started creeping their way into my eyes, but I blinked them back violently.

"You will feel that way." She held me for a short while, stroking my hair.

"Who was that woman today?"

"Hmm?"

"That ghastly red-headed woman, who was screaming at the mangers before we started."

"Oh, you mean Signora Cassandra! Our leading soprano at the opera house. She's been here for a good eight years now."

I sat up. "She's the leading soprano?!" That means we will have to deal with her everyday!

Auntie Anna nodded. "Indeed, and she lives up to her prima donna role. Always demanding the lead roles, and complaining about the ballet." Her eyes narrowed into slits. "The woman is a nightmare but she brings in the crowds. No doubt you've seen her." I knew she looked familiar!

"That was her! I've seen her so many times!" I paused, before pulling a face. "She's alright, I guess."

"That is the problem. There is so much young talent in the world today, but because the woman will not leave, we are stuck with her. The mangers are too scared to let her go in fear of not bringing in the audiences. They know nothing of the arts, only of business. They remind me of Michael; clueless, but so sure." She shook her head.

"And the... larger man?"

"Benedicto; her husband and our leading tenor. He is more flexible about roles, not as demanding, but he is very proud about his wife."

"I remember him. He's better than her, for sure."

"Yes... when he understands what to do. Sometimes, it will take him until opening night to get the notes correct, but I see why he is still here."

Silence descended on us, but it wasn't an awkward one. We were just silent, thinking. I thought about Papa and everything we had ever done together. Oh, I miss him so much.

"I-I better go, Auntie. Millie's probably wondering where I am, and I need to get ready for dinner tonight." She nodded and embraced me, stroking away a tear I didn't realise had escaped.

Going through our door again, I saw Millie in her comfy pink pyjama pants and a plain white shirt, hair down and dried, her curls crazy. She looked so young, it was adorable.

"'Ello you." She greeted me, with a bright smile.

"Sorry, I was with your mother."

"That's fine. Have a shower, then I'll fix your hair and get you downstairs." She was hopping on the tips of her toes, strangely hyper. Did one of the girls give her some Red Bull whilst I was away? She tried it once when we were eleven, and she was bouncing off of the walls.

"Millie, it's okay." Her mood seemed to drop and become serious. "I'm still coming down. I just want to come down at my own will, by myself. I think it'll help me move forward and not to hide like I've wanted to." Millie's smiled returned, and she ran to hug me.

"I'll see you downstairs, then, in about twenty minutes?" I nodded. "I'll tell them to wait. You're doing so well." And with that, she ran out of the door, her curls flying behind her.

I took my time in the shower, washing away the pain and the sweat the day had brought my way. I dug through my half of the chest of drawers, finding my own pyjama pants, similar to Millie's, except with owls on it. I surprised myself by singing. I haven't sung in ages.

_You fold his hands and smooth his tie, you gently lift his chin.  
Were you really so blind, and unkind to him?  
Can't help the itch to touch, to kiss, to hold him once again.  
Now to close his eyes-never open them..._

_A shadow passed, a shadow passed, yearning, yearning_  
_For the fool it called a home._

_All things he never did are left behind._  
_All the things his mama wished he'd bear in mind,_  
_And all his dad had hoped he'd know._

It was surprisingly comforting, hearing the sad song from one of my father's favourite show. A song about missing opportunities, because you died too young. How correct that if to my father; he had his whole life ahead of him, but he gave it up at the mention of the word 'cancer'. He gave it up further when he realised that I was going to have the opportunity to leave him for London. Papa says that he left me here due to the fact that he thought I was ready to face the big, bad world all by myself, full of competition and people who couldn't care less of the hell that you are going through. Believe it or not, it's hard losing everything you ever had in one morning. Seriously, I would give up all of my talent just to give my father a proper goodbye. Just a minute, that was all I needed. However, God decided that it was obviously too hard to give me just 60 tiny seconds just to hug him and tell him that I will always love him. No. God is dead. I understand that now.

Sighing, I slipped off my towel, pulled on some new underwear and my pyjama bottoms, searching around for my Elmo t-shirt to pull on top of my bra. It all felt like so much effort; pulling on clean clothing, drying me hair, putting on a smile and heading downstairs to eat. I'd much rather just curl up in bed, and sleep for a very, very long time. I think the depression was falling over me once more, making everything feel like a task again. A long, hard grueling task. No thank you. I'm fine. But I promised Millie that I'd been down now. My twenty minutes was up, and I had to go and socialise. Ah shit.

Pulling my hair into a messy low pony tail, I headed for the door. My hand hadn't even touched the door knob, when something forced me to turn around. The same feeling was there, the one from last night. The presence was back to haunt me. I took my time scanning the room, trying to convince myself that no one was in here, that no one had been watching me. The thought of that scared me, someone being here with me, knowing my pain. I started to turn around when I swear I saw a flash of white in the far corner of the room. But I saw no one. No one was in here. Then why did I feel someone in here? I couldn't stop staring at that corner. It probably my imagination going crazy, creating the feeling of my father's ghost again. I was alone.

Sighing heavily, I opened the bedroom door and headed down stairs.

~oOo~

_She looked straight at me. _

_The girl. She looked at me. _

_And yet, she didn't appear to notice that I was there._

_Good. It would scare her._

_I knew that I shouldn't be doing this, following her. But she was different, I knew she was. First, her beauty was outstanding; her tumbling brunette waves, her stormy blue eyes, her envious flawless skin. She looked like she had been sent to earth by Angels. Second, her cynical attitude that could easily match mine. Third, her voice... her pure, beautiful voice. I have never heard anything like it. I could hear where it had been trained, but it still needed work done to it to become truly amazing. I could help..._

_I have been lurking around this bloody opera house for the past three years of my life, and I have never seen anyone like her before, even in my years before the opera house. This remarkable girl has only been in my life for two days, and... I think I may be falling in love with her. _

_After, looking around the mangers' file a little bit, today, I learnt her name; Cara Elizabeth Rebecca Donnelly. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. The file said that she had been living with her father in Essex for all of her seventeen years, after her mother took her life when she was only four years old. It was added later today that her father had, too, taken his life on the morning of the day that she arrived. The poor child. That was why she was sobbing all through the night. How desperately I had wanted to hold her and stop her crying last night. But she cannot know. I cannot risk her seeing my face, and hating me forever. _

_Her room now empty, I left back through the shadows, and back to my domain._

* * *

**who was that shape in the shadows, i wonder? this was such a longer chapter and such a joy to write. i really hope you enjoyed this story. i'm having fun writing it! **

**the song that Cara was singing was _Left Behind_ from _Spring Awakening_. it's such a good show! i love it! **

**r&r and thank you for reading. **


	4. Chapter 4

**hey guys. how are you? good? awesome. i hope you enjoy this chapter. Cara's starting to heal a bit, but she's still quite bitter. i think that she's going to stay sarcastic, because i love writing her like that. and if Lizzie from TLBD can be sarcastic, so can Cara. **

**enjoy x**

* * *

One month into my run with the Royal Ballet, things started to, eventually, settle down. By that, I mean that I was finding it easier to get up in the morning and face the day. I found myself truly happy whilst dancing, wanting to, not just doing it because I have to and to distract myself. I simply felt... happier. Millie had noticed it to, smiling at me, hugging me less since I was no longer about to burst into tears. Everyone knew about Papa now, which I think helps more than anything; now that everyone knows what I'm dealing with, everyone understands why I was acting the way I was at the start of the rehearsal period, why I was so distant and sad. I'm smiling more now, although I still consider myself to be in mourning. Even though I was happier, I still missed Papa terribly, and I was still acting not-myself, still being bratty and annoying and frankly very cynical about everything. The outer core and layers had changed, but inside, I was still raw from losing everything.

Burying him helped. About a week ago, Auntie Anna, Millie and I were given grace to leave the Opera House to go and bury him. Auntie Anna drove us to the village nearby where we used to live, dropping me off to walk home and meet the funeral directors. This was the first time that I had met them, as the plans for the day had been made via Skype. But everything ran smoothly. Thanks to the money Papa had left me, and the money Auntie Anna insisted she paid, the day was beautiful. I had never ridden in a limo before, and I never thought I would... to my own father's funeral. It wasn't much of a funeral as a blessing from the priest and a final goodbye from those in the village that knew us best. Huh, I guess God did let me have a final goodbye to him. If only he were alive to hear it. I buried himself, sort of; everyone had thrown lilies on top of his coffin, and were starting to depart, only I beg for a shovel and to be left in peace. For about ten minutes, I threw mud on top of my father, crying hideously until Millie and the church's grave digger stopped me. Even though it was killing me from the inside, it felt nice to do it, a sense of closure that I felt blessed to have. The reception was a diet coke in the pub before heading back to London. The girls had been told the previous day by Millie with my permission, so they didn't hate me for feeling a little ratty at dinner that night.

Whilst I have been settling in, though, I can't help but feel as if someone has been watching me the whole time I have been here. It's the same feeling that I have had since my first night here, and I thought it was my father's ghost looking over me. On the night after our first rehearsal, however, I knew it was different, like it wasn't a ghost or a shadow, but a person. That is the feeling that I feel like I am being watched. The strange thing about it was that whilst I was sure it was a person, it felt like a spirit, a ghost, a specter. Talk about confusing. The feeling wasn't frightening though, if anything I enjoyed it, whatever it was, being around. Almost as if I am never truly alone. It's comforting. Just the other night, a few nights after the funeral, I could have sworn that I had heard singing. It was the same song that I was singing the other night, the last few similar lines that end the song;

_And it whistles through the ghosts still left behind._

_It whistles through the ghosts still left behind._

_Whistles through the ghosts still left behind._

At least, I thought I heard singing. It was a voice I hadn't heard before, yet it was a familiar song. I had checked everywhere in our room after I thought I heard it, (Millie was down the hallway with her mother for a while). It was only I had realised that nothing was there that the singing stopped. It was probably just my subconsciousness playing tricks on me.

Nothing has been there. I'm all by myself.

~oOo~

_Honestly, I didn't mean to alarm her that night. She was just so beautiful, yet so sad._

_For a whole month, I've been watching her. She was truly sublime; her beauty, her voice, her dancing, the very essence of her spirit. I have never seen anyone like her. Cara Elizabeth Rebecca Donnelly. One woman could not be so marvelous. Of all the girls who have passed through these halls since I have been here, there has been no one but her. In my mind, dancers are next to talent-less. All they do is move around a stage! But any woman with a voice... one a beautiful as hers... would be remarkable. _

_Three years in this wretched place. Three years feeling just as alone as before, when I was a child. A bastard child to a loving mother, who had died a little later. I can't remember that it was from, but I remember hearing that she gave birth to me by herself, in a dirty back room, in a shed. She had no one with her, she did everything by herself, the birth, cutting the cord, everything. No pain relief, no comfort, no help. She didn't think about cleaning anything, making it safe for herself and for me. I don't know what caused my deformity, but with the knowledge I have given myself over the years, I knew my birth probably didn't cause it. My scarred and terrifyingly hideous __face..._

_25 years of living with the guilt that I killed my mother. _

_My first kill. It wasn't my last. _

_I couldn't stop thinking about her. This Cara reminded me of her. Her eyes, her voice, her feisty personality. The things I remember about my mother. That's why I've been following her. I don't mean to, but I cannot leave her. Knowing about her father's death reminded me of my mother's. I pitied her. I love her. Yet, I do not know what love is! That is the problem! But I know that I feel it towards her. She knows that I'm following her, I can see her looking for me. I know that she heard me that night, how see was looking around, searching for my voice. It's only that she seemed so lost, so helpless. I thought that it will help, encourage her to sing some more. Only the poor lark never sang. Maybe sometimes I would be graced to hear a line from her. Maybe she'd hum something a tune. They were the moments I adored, to hear even that much of her heavenly voice. It was obviously untrained, however. Perhaps it had seen one or two lessons in it's life, but it was weak. Cara carried the tune well, her vibrato was always under control, it was a pure sound that followed from her mouth... but weak. She'd could be great, adored by many. I could see her addressing her adoring fans after a gala or a performance, struggling to her dressing room, being swarmed by many, only to close the door where I would be waiting for her, my wife... _

_I love her so much, that I must see it it done. But how can it be done? _

_Laying on the bed I had made for myself in my lair, I thought about it. I know next to nothing about woman in general. Some of the novels that I have read have told about the physical ways to be with them, but not how to approach them. And how can address such a beautiful woman? She'd take one look at me and scream. I sat up, raking my hand through my short, black hair and sighed. Composing helped me to think. Walking over to my piano, I picked out a piece of sheet music that I had not been written on yet, and sat down, filling my head with whatever melodies I had trapped inside of my disturbing mind. _

_I made a silent promise to myself and to Cara; I will make her a great singer... and my beautiful, loving bride. _

~oOo~

Auditions for the new ballet, Swan Lake, had already been had and the roles were chosen. Sorcha had been chosen to play the White Swan, even though Auntie Anna, (or Mistress Giry, whatever I should be calling her), had confessed that Sorcha's stunning red hair was a problem. She didn't care; in her two years of living and dancing here, she has never had a chance to shine, and she deserved this. If she needed to dye her hair, she would. Seeing how hair proud Sorcha is half of the time, it was something that we were all surprised to hear. Her dancing was amazing. Naturally, Antonina's talent and jet black hair had been in her favour and she, finally, got a lead in a show, the Black Swan.

"Three years!" she exclaimed to the four of us one night in mine and Millie's room, as we sat on the two beds which we had pushed together. "Three years of dancing in this country, and FINALLY I get to dance!" We all laughed at her happiness. She and Sorcha were delighted to dance together.

"Just wait until you can audition for the next ballet." Daniela remarked, and I smiled at Millie. "I tried this year, but I know I need to improve, still." I rubbed her back; Daniela really wanted the White Swan, and when she lost to Sorcha, she had volunteered to give up the role for her. Daniela had told her not to be stupid, she deserved it, and that she'll get her own time to shine.

"Oh no," Millie spoke up, "if anything, Cara should be a singer. She's amazing!"

"Millie!" I hid behind my hair, embarrassed at the compliment.

"Well, it's true!" I groaned, falling over onto one of the pillows, and Daniela started to stroke my hairs, giggling at my reaction. "Cara, you are! You're amazing! We first started dancing together when we were, like, five or six, and she would always sing! Sometimes when the classes with Mama were over, Uncle Gareth would start to play something, and she'd sing. It was great. Cara has such natural talent, but she's too shy and modest to admit it!" Millie grinned at me, as I glared at her, sitting up and pointing my finger to the ceiling.

"Actually, I'm not modest." I corrected her. Turning to the girls, I joked, "I'm a bloody good singer." We all laughed. "But, no, in all seriousness, I'm only alright."

"What do you mean?" Sorcha asked.

"I mean that I'm hardly amazing at singing. I'm okay, but I haven't got the X-Factor or anything." The girls all giggled again when I crossed my arms over, mocking the TV show.

"Of course you don't have the X-Factor! You're better than any scrap of talent on that show. You're too good for it." Millie insisted. "Besides, why would you want 'the X-Factor'? That show is always filled with deluded people who are only judged on their beauty, and not by their talent. That's why all of the winners are never heard of again; their voice just can't take it."

"Fair play." I agreed.

"Here here." Sorcha joined in.

"I have to agree." Antonina spoke up. "We have the same show in Russia, and every time I try and watch it, my head ends up in my hands!"

"Yes!" Daniela exclaimed. "Me too! Their talent will only be lost and forgotten in the auto-tune softwares that are put on every singer's voice today, anyway. It's as if talent means nothing to anyone anymore!" We all nodded. We were quiet for a little while, before Daniela spoke up again. "May we hear you, Cara?"

That got everyone's attention; Sorcha was shaking me, Antonina was begging me, and Millie was giggling, exclaiming of how amazing my voice, apparently, was. I gave up after a while, holding my hands up in defeat;

"Fine! Fine!" They all grinned. "I'm going to sound terrible, though. I'm not trained and I haven't warmed up." The girls gave me an encouraging 'it'll be fine', and I started to smile. Sitting up straight, air filled my lungs and my mouth started to open... only to be rudely interrupted by my cousin;

"Wait a minute. Why do it up here? I'm sure the theatre is empty." My eyes grew large, whilst the others agreed with her. It seemed to be a brilliant idea to them, as they completely overlooked how much trouble we'd be in for being in the theatre at this time of night. The managers would see it as breaking and entering, and Auntie Anna will be forced to strip Sorcha and Antonina of their lead roles. But no, hearing me sing was obviously more important.

Millie and I lent the girls some hoodies and cardigans, whilst we pulled on our dressing gowns that, for some strange reason, always reminded me of kimonos, even though they were shorter and were made out of wool... and had a Cookie Monster design on them. Checking the clock at 11:34pm exactly, we started to creep down to the stage, involuntarily laughing the whole time. Sneaking down the stage, I really felt like one of those old ballerinas that you see in the films; on their tip-toes, giggling away in delight, always a group of them.

Thus began my decent to the stage. Oh God.

~oOo~

_I had been watching her all day! Why did I, at this unholy hour, chose to try and see her again?_

_She'd be sleeping, her golden haired brat of a cousin sleeping beside her. She wouldn't care for me in that state. She'd be too far into her pleasant dreams to even notice my presence, my singing. _

_No, I should leave her be._

_... Oh forget it, I'm going off again. _

_Getting up off of my piano stool, I fixed my shirt, pulling on the waistcoat and the suit-jacket, and putting the mask on my face once more. This haunted, wretched face. I couldn't help but wonder how Cara would react to it, if she ever had the misfortune of seeing it, by accident. Would she flee? Would she scream? Would she stay? Maybe, just maybe, she'd smile at it, stroking the untouched skin that blighted my face... or what I have of one. _

_My thoughts were interrupted when I reached the surface of the Opera House, by a ghastly sound of young girls laughing. Who is up at this time? Where are they going? And why on this earth are they laughing about?! Keeping to the shadows, I crept out into the corridor, at little further ahead of the sound. By listening, I guessed that four, maybe five, girls were out of bed and making their way towards the stage. Going out the front entrance, huh? Ballerinas are really quite tiresome. In my three years here, I have seen many a ballerina try to sneak out at night, ready to become intoxicated and to engage in physical ways that once reserved for the worlds in the classics. Disgusting. Almost as disgusting as my warped mind and my hideous face. _

_But among the sound of happiness and laughter came a sound of... vocal warm ups? Sounds of 'ummms' and 'gee-gee-gees' were mixed with the laughing, and the warm ups spurred the laughter on. Sometimes, you could the hear sounds of 'shhh', as one of the ballerinas tried to silence her friends, probably in fear that they'd be found. That sometimes happened, and it was always a joy to watch. Down the corridor, near to the stage, I watched, ready to see the ballerinas that I would soon bring a terrifying hell upon. That was always fun, too, scaring the brats. _

_One of the many blondes in the company led the way. This one I recognised, though, the ballet mistress' daughter, all crazy curly hair with bright blue eyes. As cruel as it would be to scare her, given everything that her mother has done for me since I arrived here, it would be fun to see the horror on her face. The red-head followed next, then the Russian with the black hair, finishing off with another blonde, the petite one, the new one. Behind her, she was pulling a brunette, her hairs falling in curls, the front pinned back, her eyes stormy blue. _

_This one was making the warm up noises. _

_This one plagued my mind every night and every day. _

_This one was the girl that I couldn't help but fall in love with all over again, every single day. _

_Cara._

_She was giggling slightly through trying to warm up, happy and smiling. I've never seen her act in such a way; in the whole month that she has been here, I haven't once seen her give a genuine smile. Fake ones, all of the time. But never real ones. My hearts strings started to pull so hard that they started to kill me, the pain was too much. I could only hope that, one day, I could make her this happy. One day, I could cause her to smile with pure happiness and love for me. This was wishful thinking of course. Only a mother could love this face. And even if Cara could, I would need to try and speak to her first. _

_"Daniela," I heard her whispered to the blonde holding her hand, "Please take me back. We really don't need the stage to hear me sing!" Sing? Will she sing? That was it, I was following them. _

_"I understand that you're nervous, Cara," the blonde whispered, giggling, "but your cousin will kill me if I let you go!"_

_"You just leave Millie to me." Regardless, the blonde held on, tugging to make sure that she picked up the pace. _

_I followed along behind, keeping out of sight and in the shadows. I felt like a heroin addict; all it need was a little bit to get me hooked, and now, I am clinging on until I can hear my angel sing once more. _

~oOo~

"Guys! For the last time, we could get in serious trouble over this!" It was one final attempt to get out of this. I didn't want to sing! Whilst I am at least half decent, I'm not good enough. I have one of those voices which you hear all of the time, and it's simply boring to listen to. Just like me, I'm nothing special.

"You remind me of Hermione Granger, in the Potter books, Cara!" Sorcha exclaimed as I was forced onto the stage, and they ran around to the front rows of the stalls. I almost ignored Sorcha's comment, because I was so amazed by what stood before me; all I could see was row after row of seating, and when they ended, the back wall was curved around, where more seating was placed, along with a few boxes hidden neared the stage. The fancy persons' seats. Papa and I never had enough money to afford a box seat, so we always had to settle for seats in the far back. It wasn't so bad for the operas, but it was difficult to see the ballets. I have been dreaming since I was a little girl about performing on this stage, and now I am, even for a small audience of my three friends, plus one cousin, I feel just brilliant. Uplifted. Fulfilled. Every word that describes unbelievable happiness.

"Come on, Cara!" Millie called from a few rows back. "Sing for us!" This was met with a few muffled giggles from the girls. What the hell was I going to sing? I didn't think that far ahead. Oops.

"_Please sing for me."_ That voice. The voice of a man. What? What? Where the hell did it come from? The feeling came again, the one that I've been sensing for a month now. The baritone voice that has been in my dreams, it was speaking to me. I whipped my body around, trying to figure out where the voice came from.

"You alright, Cara?" Sorcha called out. I stared at her, seeing her concerned and confused face in the semi darkness.

"Did you not hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That voice."

"There was a voice?"

"_Please."_ The voice sounded strangled, almost desperate. _"Please sing for me."_ I guess that I was the only one that could hear this phantom voice. I don't know whether that is good or bad. Hearing voices usually means that you're crazy, not right in the head. Please tell me that I'm normal, sane, okay to be around in society! ... Well then, I guess I'm crazy.

I nodded to the voice, before addressing Sorcha. "Nothing. Sorry, I just thought I heard something."

"Sing for us, then!"

But what? What the hell do I sing? Song titles were flashing in front of my mind, so many options, and yet I was still stuck. I looked around the stage, trying to find some sort of inspiration. We were two weeks until opening, so unfinished sets, ladders and painting materials filled the stage, along with the odd table and chair that wanted to make an appearance. But far downstage right, on the corner of the stage, was mirror, partially covered with a black sheet. Why it was there, I don't know, but I knew that I was going to sing. Slowly, I walked over to it, opening my mouth to satisfy not only my friends, but the voice that has been haunting me for the past month;

_Look at me, _

_I will never pass _

_For a perfect bride, _

_Or a perfect daughter _

_Can it be I'm not meant to play this part? _

_Now I see that if I were truly to be myself, _

_I would break my family's heart..._

I don't know why the song fit how I was feeling, but it did. Was I meant to play this part, as a hopeful ballet dancer, wanting to make it big with my cousin? Or was I supposed to be a singer? I love singing, maybe more than dancing. Despite my persistent dedication to dancing, all of my life, I've felt happier singing. Whether it was my father's love of music and his happiness of performing with me, or something else, I'm not sure. But singing has always seemed more like me. Not the dancing. I reached the mirror, staring at myself for a little while.

_'Who is that girl I see _

_Staring straight back at me? _

_Why is my reflection someone I don't know?'_

I looked out over the audience, almost as if I were talking to the invisible people coming to hear me sing a song from a bloody Disney film. Don't judge me. I'm a child at heart, and Mulan is an amazing film.

_Somehow I cannot hide _

_Who I am, Though I've tried _

_When will my reflection show who I am inside?_

I heard a murmur of 'wow' come from the girls after I had finished belting the last few notes, and Millie whispering 'I told you that she was amazing.' A tear started to fall out of my eye, from the amount of emotion that I forced into the song, just to please the voice inside my head.

_When will my reflection show _

_Who I am inside?_

The girls jumped up and started cheering, and I let them. Who cares if we get caught? I feel amazing at the moment; I have no care for the rules. It's not like we are trying to bomb the opera house, we're just singing and having a little fun. The managers should keep their hair on... or what they have left of it. Oof, that was rude of me. Ahh well. I wiped the tear from my cheek, before Millie slammed into me, hugging me ferociously, leaving Sorcha, Antonina, and Daniela to either join in, or to pat me on the back, praising me for my mediocre voice. Saying that, it probably sounded better just then than it ever has before. My soul lifted and rejoiced, all because of that voice. Was it really in my head? If so, I sang my soul out for a figment of my imagination. That's a bit embarrassing.

"Come on, guys," I managed to pry Millie off of me. "We're going to get in trouble if and when we get caught." We ran back to the dorms, laughing our heads off, whilst the girls continued to tell me how amazing they thought my voice is. All throughout the journey back, and even when we had reached our dorm room and trying to fall asleep, I waited for the voice, just to say something to me. I was about to give up and give in to the arms of sleep, when I heard it;

_"You are tired."_ It stated, sounding so calm and soothing.

"I gave you my soul, tonight." I whispered back, feeling a little silly.

_"Your soul is a beautiful thing, Cara. No king has received such a gift. The angels wept tonight at the sound of your voice_."

I laughed lightly, pausing to check that I'm not crazy;

"You are... real, aren't you? You're not inside my head." Silence. "Um, hello?"

_"My voice is for only you to hear, even though the bearer is real." _

"Can I see you? Just to check that you're actually real, and that some sort of imaginary friend hasn't been following and singing to me for the past month." Again, there was silence. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I deserved to know who has been following my around, who begged to hear my voice tonight.

_"Tomorrow night, you will return to the stage. I... I have something I want to offer to you." _

It was my turn to be silent. What am I getting myself into? What did he want to offer to me?

"Yeah, okay. I'll go." I heard a sigh of relief come from the voice, and I could almost hear the smile in his voice.

_"Rest now, my dear."_ I don't know why, but I complied straight away.

* * *

**eek! more of the mysterious voice. do you like? **

**i don't own _'Reflections' _from _Mulan_ or the movie, that goes to Disney, nor do i own Phantom or the words i adapted, they belong to Gaston Leroux. **

**r&r if you're enjoying the story, and if there's anything that you'd like to see happen. **


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